


The Cliffs

by Mythical_cap



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Fluff, Gen, How Do I Tag, M/M, Symbolism, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythical_cap/pseuds/Mythical_cap
Summary: Rhett's favorite place in the world was where the cliffs met the water.





	The Cliffs

Rhett’s favorite place in the world wasn’t really a place at all. The ocean met the cliffs there, the water running over the planes of the rocks.

          Most people might only notice the cliffs. Tall, imposing, a certain beauty lining the crags and sharp edges. But if anyone had thought to ask the cliff, it might say it best liked its base, where the constant touch of the water ran it smooth. The ocean was unpredictable, the cliffs stoic and unmoving. Sometimes volatile, the water thrashed and roared, storm clouds raining fat drops against the top of the cliffs and waves assaulting the exposed rock, sometimes breaking off whole pieces and losing them to its depth. But always, inevitably, the storms calmed, and the waves came back, gliding soothingly against the rocks, kissing away the cracks it had formed in apology.

          And life lined the top of the cliffs, gray stone turned green with swaying trees and mosses and grass, animals tittering and chattering and an ethereal hum rising from the clifftop, falling in step with the crescendo of the waves. And when the sun shone at its brightest, the green shimmered back from the water, and one might have wondered is perhaps the color had started from there, after all. For the water drew the life, the music, the warmth to it, a rolling kaleidoscope that none could resist, the cliff included.

          The cliffs towered over the water, maybe, but the water held the pull, drawn here and there with the sighs of the wind and light of the moon, intuiting the way with the feel of the air and the sand and the stars. Expansive enough that even when it strayed from the cliffs, it was still close enough to soften the rocks with the barest of touches. And when it did leave, a trickle left sluicing across the stone, the cliff missed it sorely, its song echoing hollowly off the lonely rock. But the water always returned, bringing back fresh color and warmth, embracing the cliffs warming but with the faint buzz of new energy, as if to say, _I’m here, I’m sorry, but look what I brought._

          And sometimes the cliff held back the water, too, steady as the ocean raged, not understanding, the cliffs holding it back from a place it couldn’t touch. Here, at the cliffs, the water was all and the rock little, but behind it, the dirt and stone and sand sat unquenchable, waiting to soak up all of the ocean until nothing remained. The cliffs sat sentinel, in some selfish sense holding the water to its self, but also protecting its vastness and greatness, giving it shape, structure, foundation. For as different as the cliffs might be without the ocean, cold and barren and lifeless, so too would the ocean be different without the cliff. Aimless and directionless, the ocean might follow the tide, spreading itself thinly across the earth until it was no more, expanding itself into nothingness if the cliffs weren’t there to keep it whole.

          Rhett imagined himself carved into the rigged stone, aching with the stiffness and cold of the rock, until the water might greet him, gently, encompassing him with the fondness of a long-lost lover. His petrified lungs would drink in the cool water thankfully, the water filling up his soul, saving him from the stone and giving him life, pulling him from the rock to disappear gladly into the depths of the ocean.

          “Rhett?” A voice broke gently through his thoughts, low and careful, as if the very air was fragile and could shatter like the finest porcelain. His eyes blinked open, and stoic gray-green met a searching blue. Rhett smiled, seeking out a warm hand with cool fingers.

          “Sorry, bo,” he whispered, tracing Link’s face languidly with softening eyes, drinking him in in the soft light. “Just thinking, I guess.” Link smiled back, and Rhett could still hear the birds singing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello R&L Fandom. I have lurked for many a moon among you, and decided to jot down whatever this is instead of studying for my midterms. I wrote this in not very much time and edited very little. All mistakes are my own, the characters are obviously not. This is most likely garbage, have a nice day.


End file.
